


Anything For You

by GaryTheFish



Series: Hope is a Four Letter Word [47]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Loki - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 18:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8412841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaryTheFish/pseuds/GaryTheFish
Summary: In which Loki receives an unexpected (but not unwelcome) visitor and takes delivery of an order.





	

Raindrops tapped against the glass, barely audible above the music drifting through the workshop. Loki sat at his drafting desk; several sketches were clipped to the edges of its surface, with more tacked onto the wall above it. He’d pushed the large box that normally held his Goblin’s Teeth set next to the giant beanbag that still took up the brightest corner of the loft. Space was at a premium, to be sure, and the pathways between the top of the stairs and the beanbag or the workbench or the drafting table were perilous at best, but he didn’t want it any other way. This place was a sanctuary to him, with the hum of the bookstore below him and occasional whiffs of coffee and spices drifting up the steps. There were few places he was happier, and when he had company, it was even better.

Loki glanced a little wistfully at the empty beanbag; folded blankets and a half-filled sketchbook with two pencils shoved into the side rings rested on the plush surface. She’d had to hit the ground running almost as soon as they’d returned to London. Classes hadn’t begun yet, but Brooks and Stewart had scooped her up what seemed like a nearly endless parade of meetings and preparations within mere days. He gave a bit of a chuckle as he stood and unpinned a pair of drawings from the wall.

“Gods, you’re spoiled,” he admitted aloud as he wound his way toward the workbench, where several pieces from his Goblin’s Teeth board were haphazardly arranged. Loki lined up his three sketches at the edge of the table. He then picked up one of the flat wooden tokens, flipping it idly along his fingers as he stared at the rest of the items he’d pulled from the box in his search for inspiration. The three gems Sindri had loaned him lay on their soft leather bag near the center of the jumble of dice, hourglasses and intricately carved figures.

The door at the bottom of the steps opened with its customary, faint scuff. He looked up from his work, shoving down the familiar, gentle flutter at the possibility that perhaps she’d escaped her meetings early, but the creaking pop that followed soon after meant that whoever it was, they didn’t know to skip the fourth step from the bottom. A visitor, then, but Loki was unprepared for the sight of his mother’s face. He stared at her blankly for a second, the token dropping from his fingers and bouncing merrily on the reclaimed wood of the tabletop.

“I’ve a delivery for a Loki Friggason,” she said into the warm silence, her voice light. “I was told I might find him here, but I’m afraid the sign by the door disagreed.” Her lip quirked. “Laufeyson? Really.”

“SHIELD asked me for a name, so I gave them one. We weren’t exactly on speaking terms, if you recall. I just went with what I knew at the time. Besides, if I’m to conquer this realm, it will be through my own doing, not by riding along on your skirts. I’ll not be accused of nepotism.” He stood with a grin, walking across the room and into her open arms without even breaking stride. Her arms went around his shoulders, and they stood that way for a long moment.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he said as he pulled away, “but I was expecting Thor, and what on _earth_ are you wearing? When did you get here? How did you find me? How did the Solstice celebrations go?” The words tumbled from him of their own accord, surprising him. It had been less than a year since he’d seen his mother, not that long in the scheme of things. He’d spent years with barely a glimpse of her, back before-

Before. That was the difference, he realized. Now there was a before, and an after. Now the days were longer, because there were fewer of them.

Frigga gave him a small, knowing smile, cupping a hand behind his neck in an old, comforting motion. She squeezed gently; he willed himself not to flinch in the agonizing split second before his memories sorted themselves out, then felt the muscles beneath her fingers relax at their familiar weight.

“One question at a time, little one,” she told him patiently, as she had so many times through the long years, “and mine come first.” She gave no sign that she’d noticed what had happened, instead patting one pocket of her quilted down vest. “I’m on a vital errand, remember? Time is of the essence.”

His brow knit. “So you won’t be here long?”

She tsked softly as she pulled her hand away from his neck and sidled past him toward the workbench, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “Another question already?” She must have seen something in the way his face fell, just a little, and her smile softened. “Long enough, dear heart; don’t you fret.”

Loki smirked to cover his momentary lapse, then tucked his hands casually into his pockets. “I’m not _fret_ ting.”

“You’re fretting.” Frigga trailed a finger along the edge of one of his sketches, her voice distracted. She picked up one of the Goblin’s Teeth figurines, lifting it to the light and letting a splash of green touch her face. “How is Master Sindri’s payment coming along?”

“Slowly,” he admitted, coming to join her. He gathered the gems back into their bag, sliding the whole parcel into one of the shallow drawers hidden beneath the edge of the workbench.“I can’t decide if I have too many ideas or too few. Sometimes I think I’ve got it, and then other days I want to flip a table and set the whole place on fire. What does someone make for a master craftsman who can already make anything he wants? Norns. It’s like giving macaroni art to NC Wyeth and praying that he waits until you’ve left the building before he succumbs to hysterics.”

She replaced the figurine. “Who, dear?”

“Wyeth. He’s a painter. _Was_ a painter.” A sigh at her curious look. “Never mind.” He reconsidered for a second. “Very well; think of it this way. It’s like trying to draw a battle plan for the Valkyrie Queen.”

That earned him a gentle chuckle. “You know, I still have the first one you made me?”  

That caught him briefly off guard again. “Oh, for the love of - _why_?”

“So _many_ questions today,” she laughed as she began to explore the rest of the loft. “It was sentiment, I suppose.” A wink at the word, and Loki rolled his eyes as she went on. “Truth be told, if I’d used it, I’m sure that campaign would have ended _quite_ differently; the Norns only know who would be sitting on the throne these days. You may have lacked information, but your underlying logic was sound, if a little… ambitious. Regardless. It was an impressive offering, especially from someone who’d barely emerged from his nursery.” Frigga ran her hand along the edge of a storage shelf. “Though I’m still not entirely clear on how you planned to keep all those jellyfish from wandering off.”

A resigned shrug. “I’d have figured it out eventually.”

“Of that,” she said, “I have no doubt.” She strolled past the window next to his drafting table, glancing out into the slowly clearing afternoon before her eyes fell on the pair of frames resting on the sill. She picked up the first picture, a faint smile touching her face at the image of Aeslin dressed in torn jeans and a fitted baseball shirt, striking a pose with one of the Nerf weapons Tony had handed out to everyone midway through the lazy Christmas afternoon. Rays from a setting sun painted her dark hair with warm red highlights and brightened the green in her eyes.

Frigga studied the look on Aeslin’s face for a moment: a mix of fierce intelligence, determination and cunning, with a whiff of laughter and impending destruction hovering just below the surface. It was his second favorite of all her expressions; he had no idea how he’d managed to capture it at last, though he’d been trying for the better part of a year. Somehow, it seemed fitting that he’d caught it seconds before getting a chest (and a phone) full of Nerf darts.

“I think your brother is right,” his mother finally said. “She really was born on the wrong realm.”

Loki shook his head as he took the picture from her, placing it gently back in its place next to Steve’s Christmas gift: a detailed pencil drawing of the two of them standing on the stone balustrade that marked the edge of a street, preparing to enter battle while New York exploded around them.

“He’s wrong,” he answered without rancor, minutely adjusting both frames. “She was born exactly where she needed to be.”

Tucking her hands into the pockets of her vest, his mother gave him an affectionate, thoughtful sort of look. He met her gaze, studying her in turn. After a long moment, she huffed out a small breath, eyes and smile a little too bright.

“It’s a little dusty in here, isn’t it?” she said, glancing around the room. “Honestly. I would ask if you were raised in a stable, but I, of all people, know better. You could at _least_ offer me more of that delightful… tea, was it?”

Loki smiled, allowing her a moment to pull herself back together. “So that’s all you’re after,” he said with a wink. “I should have known.” She grinned back, and he strolled past her to the hooks on the wall, pulling on his waterproofed leather jacket. “Well,” he went on, gesturing for her to lead the way down the stairs, “I’m not sure there’s any to be had around here, but let’s see what we can find.”

***

The cafes and shops were busy at this time of day, but the owner of his favorite tea room recognized him and rapidly found seats for them at a table in the corner. A bit of chatting, and then she handed them the daily list and went back to her other guests. Loki ignored it, allowing Frigga to peruse it instead.

“You know,” she said after studying the bewildering array of teas for a long moment, “most beings would think twice before trying to fool the queen of Asgard. Think you’re clever, do you?”

“I’m not most beings,” he replied, “and no, I don’t _think_ I’m clever. You’ll want to turn it over, while you’re at it; there’s over a dozen more on the back.”

She gave him a stern look as she put the laminated list neatly back on the table between them, but Loki saw the tiny wrinkle in one corner of her lips - the one that meant she wasn’t half as piqued as she pretended to be. He gave her a winning smile in return, but she didn’t bite; she merely tucked a loose tendril back into the twisted mass of curls at her neck, then folded her hands on the menu in front of her, back spear-straight.

He gave her a wink, then aimed his smile at the approaching server instead.

“Welcome back,” said the young man. “What’ll it be today?” He turned expectantly to Frigga first, and she looked back at him with a pleasant smile. Loki leaned forward a little.

“A chai for my mother,” he answered. “A pot of the black peach, double strong if you’d be so kind, and what’s your quiche today?”

“Lorraine, crab or ham and leek. Evan’s been awfully productive; I think he doubled up on his macha by accident again. There’s a veg one, too, but I figured since you never bother...” he trailed off.

“That’s what the salad’s for, right?” Loki asked, and the server grinned. “We’ll take a crab and a Lorraine, thank you, and four scones, if you please. I’ve just realized I forgot lunch.”

“Won’t keep you waiting long, then. Will the doc being joining you? We restocked the orange hibiscus this morning.”

“Probably not today, I’m afraid, but I’ll let her know. Better yet, set aside a box, and I’ll take it home with me.”

“Will do.” After a second’s hesitation, Jemmy bobbed his head to Frigga, then tucked his notebook into his apron and left.

Frigga watched him weave his way through the crowded tables and disappear into the kitchen, then turned to Loki.

“Another loyal subject, I see. The conquest proceeds apace.”

“Another friend,” he countered. “He needed a language tutor last semester, so I offered to help on the days I wasn’t working for Stark.”

“And?”

“Poor boy failed three quizzes in a row before we figured out what was wrong. Apparently the pronunciation and meaning of certain words are _quite_ different than they used to be, and I _still_ maintain that I’m not the one with the accent. I suppose even the All-Speak only goes so far.”

She smiled at that. “Everything has its limit,” she agreed.

He rested his forearms on the table. “So you haven’t yet answered my questions.” He toyed with one of her heavy rings, a habit he’d almost forgotten he had. “Why you, and not Thor?”

“Your brother has been quite busy,” she replied. “Your father’s got him running from one end of the realms to the other on errands, and it’s _cer_ tainly not because he chose to spend Solstice with his exiled brother, so just put _that_ out of your mind this instant.”

“His father,” Loki corrected automatically, then gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle at her raised eyebrow. “No matter. I thought that might be why. How did the celebrations go on your side?”

“Marvelous,” she responded with a sparkle in her eyes. “I’d forgotten how involved it gets when it’s only the two of us, though. It felt like we were up for days, and he doesn’t even visit all the realms anymore. I don’t know how we managed it alone all those centuries, especially when the two of you were so small.” She rubbed her thumb across his in an easy gesture. “I tried to talk yo- _Odin_ into crossing this realm, as well, but _some_ one at this table neglected to tell his friends to leave their shoes out. There was therefore neither time nor reason.”

“Nor real inclination on Odin’s part, I’m sure,” he said, not unkindly. “And we’re not children.”

A merry laugh. “Your brother tells me something different, and before you argue, Heimdall agrees. I think they’re both a little jealous, truth be told, but you didn’t hear that from me.” A slight grin as she flicked her eyes to the ceiling, and Loki could almost hear the gatekeeper’s answering sigh across the vast expanse of the cosmos.

Frigga settled back fractionally as Jemmy returned with a heavily laden tray, arranging plates, cups and pots as best he could on the small table. Another brief duck of his head at Frigga’s gentle thanks, and he scurried away again.

She lifted her teacup, breathing in the scent of spices and milk as she regarded Loki curiously. “Why does he do that to me and no one else?”

“Because he’s British.” Loki shrugged as he dropped three cubes of sugar into his cup and poured tea over them. “They can smell royalty from a mile away. He may not know _who_ you are, but he’s got a very clear idea of _what_ you are. Tried it on me a few times until I set him straight.”

She made a thoughtful sound as she took a hesitant sip of her chai, then a larger one. “This is delightful,” she said as she put the cup noiselessly back in its saucer. “I almost think I like it better than the one I had last time.”

“We’ll get you a box or two,” he offered, “along with some others I think you’d like. Wrap it all up so you can bring it back across the Bridge with you.”

A small, cunning smile touched her lips as she picked up her fork. “I didn’t use the Bridge.” The smile deepened as he stared at her, tea briefly forgotten. “I took a page from your book. Found a hole, made it wider, did my best to close it up behind me.” A light chuckle. “I’ve done it before, just as you have, but it’s nowhere near as easy as you make it look.”

“No,” he replied dumbly, his suspicions about her appearance in Malibu finally confirmed. “It’s not. So you’re just going to expect me to believe that you found a portal that led you directly to me?”

“Of course not,” she replied, trying her quiche. “I’ll need the recipe for this,” she observed after a few bites. “I can’t believe Ingrid hasn’t thought of it yet. I’m growing more impressed with your newfound kingdom by the second.” She looked up, noticing that he hadn’t yet touched his, and she gestured for him to eat as she kept going. “There are more holes than there used to be, certainly, but I didn’t want to risk a wrong destination. I just found an older one that led to the White Hill.”

“White- oh, dear,” he managed after a moment, two and two coming together.

“Hmm,” came her noncommittal reply as she spread jam on a scone. “Been a few changes since the last time I visited. I meant for it to open on the side of the hill where no one would see, but instead I ran right out of a solid stone wall and almost through another. Only a few people were there to see it, and to be perfectly frank, I don’t think they were _half_ as surprised as they should have been.”

“They’re Londoners. It takes quite a bit to rattle them, from what I’ve experienced, and the Tower of London’s supposed to be haunted anyway.” He shrugged, digging into his own food. “They probably just thought you were part of the scenery. At least tell me you didn’t come through in full regalia.”

She tsked gently. “Give me _some_ credit, son. I learned my lesson at our last meeting. This time, I dressed as simply as I could and then made some adjustments once I got here based on what I saw others wearing.” Her gesture encompassed every part of the outfit she’d created on the fly: a soft green and blue plaid shirt, dark brown riding boots, slim jeans and an off-white, quilted down vest. Long blond hair was twisted and curled into a tidy mess at the nape of her neck. Her smile was a little coy as she looked around the tea room. “I think I blend well, don’t you?”

He tossed back the rest of his tea. “You’re blended, all right,” he said with a snort. “Since when does the consort to the All-Father feel the need to change herself to match the circumstances and not the other way around?”

“Since someone showed her that it might be worth her while.” Frigga grinned into the vaguely stunned silence that followed. “Queen to troll’s fifth,” she said as she unashamedly took another scone. “Forty points, and that's the round to me.”

***

Jemmy checked on them several times throughout their meal, returning at last with the check and two bags; one contained Aeslin’s tea and two jars of her favorite biscotti, and the other held a tightly-bundled assortment of chais, oolongs and herbal blends for Frigga to take home with her. The young man dusted his hands nervously on his apron. “Anything else I can do for you?”

A sudden idea popped into Loki’s mind, and he rapidly searched his jacket pocket. “Would you mind taking a picture of us? She doesn’t make it out here very often.”

“Of course,” he replied, glancing around. “Light’s better outside, though.”

They’d been in the tea room long enough that most of the crowd had dissipated, and it was a matter of moments before Jem had them smashed together on the tiny bench near the door. Frigga played along, smiling when told to and thanking the young man when he handed Loki back his phone. Loki traded it for a few folded bills, telling the young man to keep the change as always, and then they were back out on the damp but sunny streets of London.

The weather had cleared as much as it likely would, so they took their time wandering back to the loft. Loki showed her the pictures as he walked, flicking back through several more to show her the ones he and Thor had taken during their Goblin’s Teeth tournament back in Malibu. Her smile was proud as she slid her fingers across the display, soaking in the images of her sons together once more, and Loki made a mental note to find a way to get her a copy of at least one or two of them.

Aeslin sent a message midway through their walk telling him that she was giving Stewart one more hour before she fled screaming through the hallways. He sent a message back telling her he would be entertaining a visitor at the loft, and she was more than welcome to join them upon her escape. A second message came a few moments later wondering who it was, and in response, he merely replied with one of the pictures Jemmy had taken of Loki and his mother. Aeslin’s response was almost immediate, and he grinned at the line of angry emoticons and the list of curses she planned to call down on the field school advisor’s head for keeping her away. Another text soon followed, telling him that she’d do her best to find them and would let him know as soon as she was free.

 _I’ll stall her as long as I can,_ he wrote back, fingers nimble on the keypad as he followed Frigga through the bookstore and to the door unobtrusively tucked into the rear wall. _Just hurry._ Slipping the phone into his back pocket, he unlocked the heavy door and flicked off the alarm. He switched on the lights, and Frigga led the way up the stairwell.

Loki hung his jacket, then put the bags on the floor next to the beanbag, inviting his mother to have a seat while he straightened up his workbench. He repinned sketches to the wall and gathered game pieces, sorting them neatly into their places in the box near Frigga’s knee. She shifted to give him room to work, and then something caught her eye. She twisted a little further, fingers teasing at a flash of color. He looked up as she wriggled one of his favorite ties from between the beanbag and the wall; she held it up with a raised eyebrow that spoke volumes.

“Ah,” he said, taking it with a neutral expression; he deliberately ignored the the bemused look she gave him as he shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. “Thank you. I wondered where that ended up.”

Frigga continued to watch with a gentle smirk on her face as Loki fastened the locks on the carved game box and sat back on his heels. She glanced past him toward the window; outside, a gentle drizzle had begun once more. He followed her gaze, noting the darkness falling as well, then turned to her with a concerned look on his face.

“Have I kept you too long?” he asked. “I’m not sure when the Tower closes. We might have a difficult time getting you back in unless we hurry.”

“I doubt the portal’s still there,” came the reply. “It didn’t seem quite stable.” His look changed to a sterner one, and she leaned forward, taking his face in both hands. “Don’t _fret_ , love,” she said again. “I can handle myself, and it won’t be hard to find another. Ludgate, perhaps, or the Maze. This place is thick with them.”

He exhaled, sharp and quiet. “I wouldn’t know.”

Her thumb stroked along his cheekbone, and they sat like that for a small, quiet moment.

“Is she coming?” she asked at last, and Loki nodded as she slipped her hands from his face.

“Knowing her, she’s already made a dummy from her coat and some shredded meeting notes. She’ll be halfway across town before they even notice she’s gone.” A chuckle. “Not that I blame her. She’s had a long few days.”

“Resourceful. I knew I liked her.”

“That makes two of us.”

A shared grin; Frigga scooted to one side and gestured for Loki to sit next to her.

“I suppose it’s time I fulfilled my task, then,” she told him as he settled back. Her hand dipped into her pocket, pulling out a small, simply carved box. “I believe this is yours.”

He released the hasp, and the lid raised on silent hinges. At the sight of the contents, Loki shook his head reverently.

“Gods,” he said. “He truly is a wonder, isn’t he?”

“He thought you’d say something like that,” Frigga replied with a gentle nudge, “so he told me to remind you that the vision was all yours. He merely brought it to life.”

“What was I thinking?” Loki said as though he hadn’t heard her. “I’m never going to be able to repay this.”

Frigga smiled as he gently extracted the first object from the box. “Believe me when I say you’re over halfway there.” He glanced over, surprised, and her grin widened. “Have you ever seen Master Sindri so thrilled he can barely speak? I hadn’t until yesterday. It’s… unnerving, to say the least. He’ll love the book, dear heart. He’ll love the macaroni, if that’s what you choose to give him instead; I promise. This is a gift. A labor of love, and he was glad to do it.” She watched as he replaced the first object and picked up the second.

“Finish the book, though,” she went on. “After seeing the drawings Thor brought him, he’s beside himself to discover what else you can do. He thinks highly of you; he always has.” Frigga lifted her chin. “If you don’t believe me? Believe that.”

Loki closed the box again, latching it securely. “Give him my thanks, many times over.”

“I will,” she agreed, “but perhaps someday you’ll also tell him yourself.”

***

 _The door at the bottom of the steps opens with its customary wisp of sound; soft footsteps bound up the stairs. A light thump sounds as she leaps over the fourth step, avoiding the noise entirely. Frigga looks up from her study of Loki’s portfolio, leaving the page open at an herbal heavily inspired by her own garden. A wide smile graces her lips as she sees Aeslin emerge from the stairwell, and she crosses the room to greet her, arms outstretched. To Loki’s surprise, Aeslin walks directly into them, much as Loki himself did only a few hours earlier. She holds on for a few moments longer than he expects until the realization of_ why _hits him like a punch to the gut._

_Orphan. Left alone for far longer than he’d ever had to be, and through no fault of her own. She has spent a lifetime cobbling a family from strangers and friends, building bonds stronger than blood through chance and necessity, and patching over holes that will never quite be filled. Her brother. Her father._

_Her mother. A few short years, even fewer clear memories, but a hole that runs unfathomably deep. A gash he has seen only in glimpses, lost as it is beneath more recent wounds, but one that the All-Mother saw and recognized a lifetime ago at their first meeting in the Queen’s garden._

_Frigga tugs Aeslin further into the warmth and light of the small loft; she brushes rain from the younger woman’s hair and pulls a dry blanket around her shoulders as she aims her toward the beanbag. Loki joins them, drawn to their strength and brilliance like a moth to a flame. The three of them laugh and talk long into the night. The store closes beneath them, and they raid Aeslin’s biscotti and make tea in the tiny electric kettle Loki retrieves from downstairs. It is nearly midnight by the time Loki calls a cab to take them to St. Paul’s Cathedral. To Ludgate, where long ago the kings of this island knelt before Bor, and then before Odin, offering tribute to their gods._

_Frigga says her goodbyes first - strong, tight hugs for the both of them and an admonition to behave themselves, whatever that might mean. Then the Queen draws magic; Loki cannot sense it, but he has seen his mother use it often enough that he knows what it looks like. They walk widdershins along the sidewalks surrounding the massive church. Their steps are slow and careful in the frigid rain, and when Frigga vanishes between one streetlamp and the next, he is not surprised at all._

_Aeslin curls close to him in their bed that night, arms around his waist and cheek against his sternum._

_“I’m glad she waited,” she says, her voice small and almost too young, and he cannot respond through the lump in his throat. He presses his lips to her hair instead, and if he holds her a little tighter than he means to, he can only hope she’ll understand why._

 

**Author's Note:**

> For M, who told me to stop keeping everything to myself, and for Jesmaellette, who wanted more Frigga. (and gosh, who wouldn't?)
> 
> For those who might have forgotten: Sindri: master craftsman. he was the one from whom Thor commissioned L&A's Goblin's Teeth set.
> 
> Beta read by the beautemous Xogs. Title from the song by Ludo. 
> 
> Feedback hoarded and appreciated. This was meant to be a tiny part of the last one shot, and well, you can see what ACTually happened. The other bit will follow soon, I promise. (Like I promise it will follow, but "soon" might be a relative term.) :) Thanks for reading! Love you all!


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